Flying Lessons
by mamaduck
Summary: What if there were repercussions to Harry's disobedience in his first flying class that weren't recorded in canon? A discipline fic - if that's not your cup of tea, please check out another story from the fabulous collection on this site.


1Flying Lessons

Maybe there were repercussions from Harry's flying stint in first year that we never were aware of...

Rated PG - a paddling and a swear word.

It all belongs to Rowling. I'm just playing.

" None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quiddich'. " (p110 HP and the Philosopher's Stone)

Madam Hooch's words echoed in Harry's head as he trudged through the corridors of Hogwarts castle. In his excitement over being chosen Gryffindor's new Seeker he'd forgotten about the stern warning issued by the flying instructor. Now though, he remembered clearly.

Turning another corner, Harry caught sight of another student ahead of him. Malfoy. Git, thought Harry. If he hadn't taken Neville's remembrall I wouldn't be in trouble with Madam Hooch. He realized at the same second that Malfoy was in the same trouble as he. Suddenly he felt a little better.

When Malfoy stopped in front of a door beside the Quiddich locker rooms, Harry caught up with him. The blond boy looked up quickly, his face anxious until he saw it was Harry.

'Got us both in trouble, didn't you , Potter,' Malfoy sneered. 'If you hadn't been showing off and McGonagall saw you, no one would've known we were flying.'

'I wasn't showing off! You were the one-' Harry broke off as the door in front of them opened.

'Enter', Madam Hooch's voice came from inside. Cautiously, the boys stepped into the room.

Madam Hooch's office was large, but cluttered with Quiddich paraphernalia. Brooms of different sizes leaned in the corners while team banners and award plaques covered the walls except for the typical enormous stone fireplace that dominated one side. The smell of wood and polish hung faintly in the air.

The flying instructor was standing to one side of her desk, her hands on her hips. In her modified quiddich style robes and boots with her hawk-like eyes narrowed, she was an intimidating sight. A wave of her hand caused the door to swing closed behind them.

'Sit.'

Quickly, the boys slid into the two chairs in front of the desk. Harry wiped his suddenly damp hands on his trousers and wondered just how angry Madam Hooch was, and what punishment she would dish out. Her note had been brief:

Harry Potter: Report to my office at 4 o'clock re disobedience in yesterday's flying class. Mm R Hooch

Since the note had arrived at 3:45, via a first year Hufflepuff, as Harry exited the Charms classroom, he didn't have time to consult with Ron about what to expect from Hooch. Oliver Wood had been respectful when he spoke of her, briefly mentioning what a bloody fantastic flyer she was and how she had played professionally for the Harpies in her youth.

First woman ever to play in a professional league, Wood had said, and had gone on to say how that was especially remarkable given her heritage. Harry didn't know what Wood had meant by that and didn't like to ask. Now, as he stared tentatively at the instructor with her strange eyes and striped hair, he wondered again what Wood had been referring to. Was she part bird?

'Students learn very quickly to follow my instructions to the letter,' Hooch stated suddenly, interrupting Harry's internal musings.

'Brooms are dangerous when used improperly by the untrained and unsupervised. You both are very fortunate not to have been seriously injured during your airplay. If I had my way, you'd both be banned from flying this year. Unfortunately, that would only be possible with Malfoy as you, Potter, have been rewarded for your disobedience and made the new Gryffindor Seeker.'

Harry didn't miss the particularly malevolent glare from Malfoy as Hooch continued.

'However, there are many ways to mete out punishment and I am willing to resort to immediate and more personal methods.' Hooch paused to stare at them for a moment, crossing her arms over her chest. Harry's stomach clenched.

'Perhaps a thrashing will encourage you to obey me in the future. Remove your outer robes and bend over the desk.'

Harry was frozen to the chair. Yesterday, he had thought for a moment that McGonagall was about to cane him until he realized Wood was a person. Now he was to be walloped for real?

While Harry was immobile, Malfoy had immediately leaped to his feet.

'But Madam Hooch, ' he exclaimed, two bright pink spots appearing in his pale cheeks, ' You can't! I mean, Professor Snape already, he, ah, that is to say...' Malfoy trailed off as Madam Hooch raised her eyebrows.

'That doesn't surprise me. Your Head of House is quick to deal with disobedient Slytherins... Just the same...' Briskly, Madam Hooch turned to her fireplace and threw in a handful of glittery powder in one smooth motion. Harry looked from Malfoy, who was obviously embarrassed about something, to the instructor, who had knelt in front of the fireplace as she called sharply, 'Severus Snape!'

Almost immediately, Professor Snape's head appeared in the fireplace. Harry just about fell off his chair.

'You bellowed, Rolanda?' Snape's deep voice was dry, but clear.

'I have Draco Malfoy in my office, Severus, in regard to the unauthorized flying incident yesterday. He has intimated that you've already punished him in a manner that would preclude him receiving a well deserved paddling from me.'

As Hooch was speaking, Professor Snape had looked out into the office. When he saw that Harry was there as well as Draco, his eyes narrowed. When Hooch had finished, the professor's eyes moved back to her.

'You are... correct... in your assumption, Madam. Might I suggest a number of detentions instead? Surely you have some equipment that could use some maintenance.'

_I can't believe it! _Harry was incredulous. Snape is getting Draco off! But wait. Snape already punished him? How? Thoughts were racing through Harry's brain faster than he could process them. He turned his head to look at Malfoy. Draco's face was flaming red and he was staring at the floor. Harry looked back to the fireplace as Snape continued to speak.

'However, I am quite certain that Mr Potter has received nothing but accolades for his celebrity performance yesterday. '

_Git!_ Harry was incensed. _He's encouraging her! Of course he'd want me punished!_

'Thank you Severus,' Madam Hooch stood and brushed off her robes. 'That will be all.'

'At your service, Madam.' Snape inclined his head toward Hooch, then disappeared, but not before glancing pointedly at Draco.

'Malfoy, you will serve detention with me after classes for the rest of the week, starting tomorrow. Knowing Professor Snape, as I do, no doubt you have been aptly punished and are still smarting.' She smirked down at Malfoy. 'Dismissed.'

The door to the office flew open and Draco wasted no time getting out of there. He mumbled something that sounded like thank-you to Madam Hooch before darting out the door, not sparing Harry even a glance.

'Now.' Madam Hooch was looking at Harry, her expression severe. 'What kind of punishment did Professor McGonagall asign to you.'

Harry didn't know what to say. Snape had been right; Harry had received nothing but praise from his Head of House. As he struggled to say something, anything, to save him from a paddling, Hooch shook her head.

'That is not surprising, either. To the desk, then.' She waved her arm in the direction of the large wooden desk.

Harry gulped. Not daring to defy the flying instructor, he shed his robe and shuffled over to the front of the desk.

'Over you go.' Hooch's voice was businesslike.

Leaning over the desk was difficult for Harry as he wasn't quite tall enough. Suddenly he felt himself lifted by invisible hands until he was lying on his stomach on the desk, his feet dangling. Looking back he saw Hooch standing with her wand in her hand.

'Hands flat on the desk.' At Hooch's command, Harry placed his sweaty palms on the shiny surface on either side of his head. He heard a few murmured words and realized Hooch must have used some sort of spell to keep him on the desk as the same invisible force pressed down on his back, preventing him from sliding off. A few more words from Hooch and Harry felt his trousers unfasten and slide down to his knees. His heart was racing and a tingling sensation was running up and down his spine. He tried to take a few dep breaths and will his fear away. He'd never been paddled before. He'd never even been smacked before. Uncle Vernon had cuffed him about the head on occasion but mostly preferred to toss him in his cupboard and deny him meals.

Madam Hooch moved a few steps away from Harry, her boots clicking on the stone floor. He craned his head to see what she was doing in time to see her lift a wooden paddle from a hook behind the desk. It wasn't very big, perhaps twelve inches long and four inches wide, but Harry felt his mouth go dry at the sight.

Coming back around the desk, Madam Hooch addressed Harry again.

'I don't like disobedience, Potter, in my classes or on the pitch. Run afoul of me and expect to pay the penalty. Next time you think about ignoring my orders and flitting about as you please you'd do well to remember this punishment, so as to avoid a second round.'

Harry didn't answer as he didn't think one was expected. His body tensed as he waited for the first swat. He didn't have long to wait as Hooch abruptly pushed his shirt tail up and brought the paddle down across his pants clad bottom.

Ah! Harry's breath caught at the unexpected sharp sting of the paddle. He didn't think it would hurt like this! A second and third smack landed in quick succession, each slightly lower on his backside. Harry's eyes were stinging and he knew his feet would be kicking the desk if they could move. He pressed his cheek against the desk top and squeezed his eyes closed.

The ensuing seven strokes of the paddle ignited a pulsing flame in Harry's bottom and left him gasping. Tears streaked from his eyes and pooled on the surface of the desk. _Hooch must have arms of iron_, he thought. No normal woman would have this kind of strength. Not that he had any experience, but still.

Gradually, the inferno of pain receded to a moderate roar and Harry was able to collect his breath. Realizing he was no longer stuck to the desk, he lifted his hand to swipe the tears from under his glasses.

Red faced and teary-eyed, Harry slid backward off the desk and awkwardly pulled his trousers up. He could sense Madam Hooch standing off to the side but didn't want to look at her just yet. With a shaky hand, he removed his glasses to scrub at his face with his shirt sleeve.

Replacing his glasses, Harry turned to find Madam Hooch standing in front of him, holding out his student robes. He chanced a look up at her face and was a little surprised to see an impassive expression. Tentatively, he took his robes and shrugged them on, trying to ignore the pulsing throb in his rear.

'You took that well, Potter.'

Harry tilted his face up to see the flying instructor fully, to detect any trace of sarcasm. He'd cried like a baby after all. But her face remained inscrutable.

'I've had fifth years that haven't been as stoic.' Part of Harry warmed with the praise, another part worried that she still paddled students of that age.

Harry fastened his robes with a few fumbles and then looked uncertainly at Madam Hooch. Did he just leave, or was she going to dismiss him?

'You do have a gift with your flying, Potter. I wish you success with Quiddich; there's no better sport in the world, muggle or magical. I'm biased, of course.' Hooch grinned a little.

' I'll see you on Monday for your next flying lesson. You may be a natural on a broom but there's always room for improvement. Dismissed.'

Harry scurried out of the office as fast as his sore bottom would allow. Once in the corridor, he paused to rub at the offended area. Hearing a snort behind him, he jumped and yanked his hand away from his butt.

Oliver Wood was leaning against the doorframe of what Harry realized was the entrance to the boys' locker room.

'Had an introduction to Hooch's paddle, aye?' Wood's Scots brogue floated along the corridor and his eyes were crinkled with his smile.

'She's got quite a swing, that one.' Oliver came closer to Harry. ' I wondered if she'd skelp you over that little show yesterday.'

Reaching out a burly arm, Wood rubbed his knuckles on Harry's head. 'Well, now you know what to expect if you screw around in her lessons.'

Harry ducked his head, embarrassed that Gryffindor's esteemed Quiddich captain knew he'd been paddled.

'Happens to most of us flyers, you know,' Wood continued, accompanying Harry along the stone passage. 'Being on a broom is the most wonderful thing ever and most of us manage to do something a little excessive in one of Hooch's lessons and end up getting our arse tanned over it.'

Harry looked up at Oliver, trying to imagine the athletic fifth year bent over Hooch's desk. Wood grinned down at him. 'Aye. I made it to second year before I ran foul of Hooch. She doesn't appreciate bludgers set loose in her class. Not a great sense of humour.'

Suddenly Harry felt like part of a brotherhood for the first time in his life. If Oliver Wood could survive a paddling from Madam Hooch and be bold enough to tell a first year, then he guessed he would deal with the ache in his bottom. Sighing happily and wiping his nose once more on his sleeve, Harry strode along beside his fellow flyer, up to the Great Hall and dinner.


End file.
